Cacophony
by Fruktheworld-99
Summary: A week without Gilbert was normal for anyone in a relationship with him. However, eventually, for Matthew, that week turned into two, and that two weeks became months, worrying him to the point of breaking into Gilbert's apartment. The nightmares, the panic attacks, the passing out—is it all worth it?
1. Chapter 1

The room was silent. Matthew's phone was sitting on the coffee table, abandoned and cold. It hadn't rang, beeped, buzzed, or made any noise in quite some time. However, he knew he shouldn't be worried. Gilbert was the kind of person to be by your side every day for three months, then disappear for a few weeks, only to reappear at the foot of your bed at four in the morning asking if you have any beer. He should've expected this, but no matter what, he just couldn't quell the anxious feeling that had been rising in his gut for a while.

It took around two weeks for Gilbert's absence to get into Matthew's head. Was he okay? Was he hurt, or was he just ignoring Matthew? He could never tell with the guy. One day he was your best friend, and the next he was stabbing you in the back, literally. Matthew had to admit he was mad at himself for trusting the German, but he had been the only one in quite some time to actually notice Matthew. He seemed to care about him. He had been the only one who ever made Matthew feel important, made him feel cared about. It was a nice feeling, but Gilbert had torn that away from him just like someone tears off a Band-Aid. Sure, it hurts, but only for a little while. However, it always ended up leaving a mark or the really annoying sticky stuff that remained on the skin where the Band-Aid used to be. Matthew knew he would get over Gilbert, the pain would eventually go away, but that sticky stuff would be plastered on Matthews heart for the rest of his life.

* * *

A month had passed and Matthew was now sitting on the couch, cell phone still lingering on the coffee table, face down and untouched. He hadn't checked it in almost two weeks, but he didn't want to. He knew it would just be the same lock screen it had always been: a picture of him and Gilbert at a hockey game.

But he couldn't take this anymore. He quickly unfolded his legs and reached to the short table sitting in front of his couch to grab his phone. When the screen lit up, showing that he had two missed calls, he gasped out loud, nearly screaming; they were both from Gilbert. He unlocked his phone and listened to the two messages that Gilbert had left him.

The first: "Hey Mattie. Sorry I haven't talked to you much in the last few days. I've been busy. Anyway, call me back when you get the chance."

And the second, which was dated the next day: "Hey Mattie. It's Gil again. I really need you to call me back. Please. I need your help. I don't know what to do anymore. I don't have time to explain, just please, please, please call–" but his message was cut off by a horrible shriek, the shriek of a dying man. Upon hearing this, Matthew dropped his phone and ran out the door.

And he ran and ran, not knowing where he would end up, but eventually arriving at Gilbert's apartment. He reached under the mat where Gilbert hid the spare key and grabbed it, his hands fumbling as he tried to unlock the door. When he succeeded, he threw it open and ran inside, not bothering to close it.

What Matthew saw when he stepped through the threshold from the foyer to the living room made his chest seize up along with his ability to breathe. The furniture was scattered about, like someone had gotten in a fight, and the normally white carpet was red in places—blood red. When Matthew stepped closer to examine the room a bit better, he noticed broken glass scattered about, the shards covered in blood. They seemed to have come from the coffee table that was obviously no longer intact. The very sight of blood, Gilbert's or not, almost made Matthew pass out. _What happened?_

He could feel the familiar pang of anxiety starting to bubble up from inside his lower abdomen all the way to his lungs, and he leaned against the wall for support. The sight of the upturned room immobilized him, so he sat and stared at the only unbroken thing in the room: a photo of Gilbert and his brother hanging on the wall above a table that was on its side, but the sight of Gilbert slammed Matthew back to reality. Where was he? Was he okay? Matthew decided the best thing to do would be to call the cops. Yeah, that seemed logical.

He stood up and slowly walked to the kitchen, still using the wall and scattered furniture for support. He grabbed the phone off the receiver and dialed 911, bringing it to his ear.

It only took a few seconds for someone to answer. "911, what is your emergency," asked the monotonous voice of a young woman.

"Um. I just… I just walked into my uh… friend's apartment and… and there was… uh. There was…" He paused. He wasn't sure how to explain this.

"Sir, are you still there?"

"Yes. Um. The furniture is scattered everywhere, and there's… uh blood everywhere. I… I don't know what happened."

"Someone will be there momentarily, just remain calm. What is the address?"

Matthew gave the woman Gilbert's address before hanging up. He slowly sank to the cold tile floor and sat while he waited for the police or whoever dealt with this kind of thing to arrive.

Matthew spent what felt like an eternity on that hard kitchen floor before he heard footsteps coming from the general area of the living room.

"Hello? Is anyone here?" The voice was unfamiliar, but definitely a man.

"In the kitchen," Matthew yelled in response. He didn't look up from the red-stained tile in front of him, even when he heard the footsteps get louder and eventually saw a pair of shiny, black shoes in his peripheral vision.

"Sir?"

"Hmm," he replied, still without looking up.

"Are you alright?" The man had a heavy British accent, and when Matthew finally looked up, he met a bright green gaze, shadowed by bushy eyebrows. Behind him was another man. Matthew didn't realize until then that there were two people. They were both staring down at the young Canadian, making him feel like he was about to explode. He hadn't understood the gravity of the situation until then. Gilbert was gone, and although the police would try, there wasn't much they could do to find him.

"I'm fine," he replied, but it was nearly a whisper. He obviously wasn't fine, but the police couldn't help him with that.

The cop extended his hand to Matthew to help him up, but Matthew ignored it and stood up on his own. He looked at the two men standing in his kitchen. "So is there anything you can do? To find Gilbert?"

"That's what we're here for," the other cop replied. Even with that short sentence, Matthew could hear the man's thick accent, which he assumed to be French. "Now why don't you come with us down to the police station so we can ask you a few questions?"

Matthew sniffed and realized that there were tears pooling in his eyes. "Okay." He wiped his sleeve across his face and walked back to the living room. The sight of the bloody carpet made his stomach hurt again, so he looked away and followed the two police out of Gilbert's apartment.

* * *

It had been a month since they had given up. A month since they had stopped looking, stopped caring. They said they would do all they could to find Gilbert, but Matthew doubted that they really did. They had searched for a week, a week was all the time they took to find him. The thought made him sick. All that time he spent answering pointless questions was wasted because Gilbert was gone, and probably dead.

It took Matthew a month to accept the fact that he would never see those obnoxiously red eyes again. He would never hear another "awesome" in Gilbert's stupid accent. He never thought he would get attached to silly things like that, but then Gilbert came into his life.

Not much had changed since they pronounced Gilbert dead. A few articles of clothing lay scattered here and there around Matthew's bedroom, though he barely went in there anymore. The ruffled, grayish sheets reminded him too much of Gilbert's messy hair, and his smell still lingered on them from the many nights they spent together.

These days, Matthew spent most of his time on the couch, where he passed out, drunk, nearly every night. He Decided to finally get up and stretch, as he had been sitting for the past few hours. His legs were cramped from being in the same position for so long, but he couldn't sit there forever. He looked over at the phone still laying on the carpet where he had dropped it over a month ago. He hadn't bothered to pick it up, so it remained on the dusty carpet which probably needed vacuumed but Matthew didn't care. He often heard the phone ringing or making some sort of noise—probably just his brother, Alfred, trying to get ahold of him—but he was always to exhausted to answer it.

Feeling a little bit faint, Matthew made his way to the kitchen. He hadn't eaten in a couple days; he felt dehydrated, and his skin was starting to get pale, so he decided it would probably be a good idea to at least drink some water. The window in the kitchen was the only one in his house that wasn't covered by curtains or blinds, and Matthew was just now realizing that the sun had set more than a couple hours ago. He was confused for a moment before looking at the clock on the kitchen wall, then he knew why he was so tired. It was nearly four in the morning, and he had woken up at five the previous morning because of a recurring nightmare that he had almost every night after Gilbert died.

After Matthew had drank as much water as he could without throwing it back up, he slowly walked back to the living room and fell onto the couch, instantly passing out.

* * *

 _He was running. He didn't know where, and he didn't know why, but he had to keep going. He couldn't stop, even if he had no idea what would happen if he did. His legs just kept going, one foot in front of the other, until the scenery blurred around him. He didn't know where he was, but his surroundings were made up of what seemed like never-ending trees._

 _Eventually he came to a stop in a clearing. In the distance he could barely make out a small cabin. Finally, there was someone to help him. He ran to the front door of the building. It was barely intact. The paint peeling off of the walls, the door falling off of the hinges, and glass lay shattered on the ground outside where the windows used to be._

 _He pushed the door open, causing it to fall to the ground, the crash it made echoing longer than it should have. He stepped over the fallen door, into the one-roomed cabin. The furniture, although in almost new condition, was strewn around the room. There was blood on the floor and all four walls. The whole scene was familiar—almost too familiar._

 _He walked up to the only chair that was not on its side, with its back facing him. He could've sworn he saw someone sitting in it when he walked in, but when he approached it and jumped to the front, it was empty. That's when he heard the door slam shut, and everything went dark. How did the door slam shut when minutes ago it wasn't even attached? He had no idea, but that was not his biggest concern at the moment._

 _Then he heard footsteps. They were growing in on him, getting louder and louder. The amount of feet coming towards him kept increasing. He tried to run to the door, and though there was no light, he eventually hit the wall, hearing it crack upon impact. He felt for the doorknob but only found more wall. With the footsteps coming closer, the only thing he could do was wait. He sank to the ground and covered his ears, but he could still hear the pounding in his ears, along with screaming. He closed his eyes and braced for the worse._

 _Suddenly, everything was quiet. He uncovered his ears but did not open his eyes yet. It was silent, but a bad silent, the kind of silent that left him feeling uneasy, like he was in the eye of a hurricane._

 _However, when he opened his eyes, he was back in the woods, sitting on the ground, surrounded by fallen trees that formed a nearly perfect circle. He stood up and walked to the edge of the ring of trees, but whenever he approached them, he heard the same screeching sound from earlier, so he went back to the middle of the circle and sat down._

 _For some reason, he decided that digging into the earth below him would help him escape, so he began to claw at the dirt with his hands. As soon as he had effortlessly created a basketball sized hole, he felt cracking beneath him. The earth was falling apart, and it was taking him with it._

 _He looked at his hand, which resembled the shattered earth below him. He barely got a chance to scream before the earth gave out beneath him and he was falling._

 _He fell for what seemed like forever. Facing the bottom of the pit, he could see it coming towards him, closer and closer, until he was only inches from the ground_

* * *

Matthew's eyes flew open, and he sat up as fast as he could. He had had that nightmare nearly every night for the past month, and as always, he woke up sweating, left with an empty feeling inside that refused to go away, even when he was awake.

He had no idea what the dream meant, if it meant anything at all. The only thing he knew for sure was that the inside of the cabin was exactly how Gilbert's living room had looked. The only difference was that one chair. It nearly drove Matthew insane whenever he jumped to the front of the chair and no one was there. He knew it was just a dream and that he shouldn't let it get to him, but he felt like it had some hidden meaning that would tell him where Gilbert was.

Feeling exhausted, Matthew fell back onto the couch, only to quickly sit up when he heard footsteps. They weren't like the footsteps in his nightmare though. He could tell it was only one person, and they were in the kitchen.

Matthew stood up as quietly as he could. He grabbed the hockey stick that leant against the wall and snuck to the kitchen. He peeked around the corner, but as far as he could tell there was no one there. They must have heard him coming (despite his efforts to stay silent) and hid in the closet. He cautiously stepped onto the kitchen floor, knowing exactly where to step so it wouldn't creak. Walking to the large closet on the other side of the room, he raised the hockey stick, ready to strike as soon as he threw the door open. There was no need for him to open the closet, though, because it threw itself open as soon as he placed his hand on the doorknob. Matthew flew backwards, more out of fright than from the force of the door. He nearly screamed, but remembered it was still the middle of the night, and he didn't want to wake up the neighbors or have someone call the cops. He could handle the intruder himself.

In the small amount of moonlight that shone through the one window in Matthew's kitchen, he could scarcely make out some of the features of the man standing before him: crimson eyes, silver hair… _Wait a minute_.

"Gilbert?" Matthew nearly shouted the name. No. It couldn't be Gilbert. He was dead. It wasn't possible.

"Hey Birdie. You got any beer?"

At the sight of the smirk on Gilbert's face, Matthew nearly smacked him with the hockey stick.

* * *

 **A/N:** So that's the first chapter. Sorry I published it a couple days late. My computer was messed up and it took me a while to fix it. I'll most likely be updating every Friday unless I'm too busy or my computer decides to be a jerk again. Anyway, I hope you liked it. More Prucan coming up next week!


	2. Chapter 2

"Okay," Matthew started. The couple were sitting across from each other at the kitchen table. "What the fuck happened?"

Gilbert drank the remaining beer out of his can and crushed it with his hand, tossing it to the ground. Matthew looked at the can on the floor, then to the trash bin that was only a foot away from it. He glared at Gilbert, who obviously didn't take the hint and continued his story. "So I was in my apartment, just minding my own business, doing the stuff I usually do, you know? I heard the doorbell ring, but I didn't answer because I wasn't expecting a visit from anyone I knew, and I didn't feel like talking to whoever was there about God knows what. So I stayed in my bedroom continuing to do… stuff, but the person outside starting knocking on the door. Really loudly. So I yelled 'Alright I'm coming!' I opened the door and I saw two men in black suits and sunglasses. They looked all official so I didn't slam the door on them like I planned." Gilbert stood up to get another beer out of the fridge. He sat back down and Matthew sighed. When Gilbert got drunk he was impossible to understand, and he never told the truth. If he had too many beers, Matthew would never get the whole story. Then again, he didn't know if the story Gilbert had told him even _was_ the truth. Either way, he decided to keep listening to Gilbert's rambling."Anyway, these two guys, one was British and the other was French. They—"

"Wait," Matthew interrupted. "What did these two guys look like?"

"Well, it's hard to remember, but it was impossible to forget the British guy's eyebrows. Birdie, they looked like a child scribbled them on his face with a black crayon, I'm not even kidding."

Matthew made an annoyed sound and asked, "What did the French one look like?"

"Um. He had long blond hair, a bit longer than yours, and his voice was so annoy—"

"So it _was_ them," Matthew interrupted. "I knew it."

"It _was_ who?"

"The two 'cops' who showed up after I called 911 when I found your apartment covered in blood."

"So are they cops or not," Gilbert asked.

"I don't think they are."

"Well then who the heck are they?"

"I don't know," Matthew replied.

"Well," Gilbert grabbed Matthew's hand. "Let's find out." He pulled Matthew out of his chair much to his protest.

"Gilbert, It's the middle of the night, what are we going to be able to do at 4 in the morning?"

"You have a computer, right? Research."

"Fine," Matthew groaned.

* * *

Sitting on the couch with Matthew's laptop, Gilbert typed away, hacking or searching or something; Matthew had no idea. He started to nod off at around 5:30, and he had nearly fallen asleep, but Gilbert exclaimed, "Mattie, look at this!"

Matthew jumped and looked at the computer screen. Gilbert was pointing at a picture of the British and French guys in black suits and sunglasses, however there was a third person that Matthew didn't recognize. He wasn't wearing a suit, but a long black coat, and no sunglasses covered his bright blue eyes. The three sat at a table in some café Matthew had never been to. Neither the British nor Frenchman were smiling, but the other one seemed ecstatic, his unnaturally wild hair pointing in all directions.

Matthew looked up at Gilbert, who was smiling at the screen. "What is this?"

"I just found someone who might have some… useful information."

"Who, the guy with the black coat?"

"Mmhm," Gilbert confirmed.

"Do you know him?"

"Oh I know him, alright."

* * *

After Matthew had finally gotten Gilbert to go to sleep, and he himself had gotten a good eight hours in, the two finally left Matthew's apartment at 2:30 PM, a little later than they had planned, but they would still have enough time to do what they needed.

"You know where this guy lives,right," Matthew asked as he opened the driver's side car door and sat down, starting the car while Gilbert packet everything they would need into the back.

"I know how to find out where he lives," Gilbert yelled, forgetting Matthew was only a few feet away.

"Please be quiet. I don't want people to think we're up to something… weird."

"Don't worry about it," Gilbert said, this time quietly, as he got in the passenger seat and slammed the door shut.

"Careful," Matthew chided. "This is a new car. I don't want it ruined."

"Whatever." Gilbert buckled his seatbelt, and Matthew carefully backed out of the parking lot.

* * *

"Gilbert, you moron, you gave me the wrong directions, and now we're lost. Great," Matthew sighed as he passed a small coffee shop for the fourth time.

"I didn't give you the wrong directions. I'm perfect," Gilbert responded. Looking out the window.

"If I have to see that stupid naked baby statue one more time, I'm going to stab you"

"Relax Mattie. This is all part of the plan."

"You didn't tell me this earlier when you went over every detail of _your_ stupid plan."

"That's because I thought of this part on the way here."

"Well then, tell me, why the heck am I going in circles?"

"Because."

"Because why?"

"Uh…," Gilbert started.

"See? You have no idea."

"No, that's not it. Look at that." Gilbert pointed to someone sitting in a bench by the naked baby statue Matthew hated so much. "That's who we were waiting for."

Matthew squinted, trying to make out who Gilbert was pointing at. "Is it him?" It certainly didn't look like the man in the picture online.

"No," Gilbert answered. "But it certainly someone who can help us find him. Stop the car."

"I can't stop now. I'm in the middle of the road. I'll find somewhere to park."

"Ugh, you're so boring," Gilbert groaned.

"I'm not boring, you're insane."

"No, I'm awesome."

"Whatever." Matthew rolled his eyes and pulled into the nearest parking lot. The two got out of the car and started walking to the bench by the fountain.

"How do you know all these people," Matthew asked, grabbing Gilbert's hand as they walked.

"They were friends of mine a while ago."

"Will they remember you?"

"Pfft, who could forget this beautiful face?"

"Alright," Matthew sighed as he focused on getting to the bench without flicking Gilbert in the arm with his free hand.

The couple only took about three minutes to get back to the bench, and much to their disappointment, it was empty.

"Damn it," Gilbert growled, throwing himself down on the bench while Matthew remained standing. "I said you should've stopped in the middle of the road."

"So this is _my_ fault," Matthew said, exasperated.

"Well, it certainly isn't my fault."

"Alright. Fine. I'm sorry that he's gone, but arguing isn't going to help. We need to find this person."

"I think I know where he might be."

"Really?"

"Yeah." Gilbert jumped out of the bench and grabbed Matthew's hand, dragging him down the sidewalk.

"My God Gilbert, slow down."

"Nope, not going to let him get away this time."

"For Christ's sake. Can you at least let go of my wrist?"

Gilbert looked down at the death grip he had on Matthew's arm. "Oh." He dropped it and Matthew continued running after him. When he suddenly stopped in front of an old bakery, Matthew nearly ran into his back.

"What the," Matthew said, confused as to why Gilbert would stop here of all places.

"He's in there. I can sense it."

Matthew looked at the small building, confused. He looked in one of the windows and saw the man they had been looking for. "You can't sense it. You can see him in the window."

"Same thing," Gilbert replied before walking to the door and holding it open. "Ladies first," he said to Matthew.

"Very funny," Matthew remarked before entering the bakery, almost knocked over from the potent smell of bread and cake.

"There he is." Gilbert motioned to a man sitting at a table across the room.

"The one with the weird hair clip?"

"Yeah," Gilbert replied. He took Matthew's hand and casually walked over to the adjacent table."Follow my lead," he whispered.

"Wow," Gilbert started, at full volume. "Sure is nice weather we're having, isn't it Harold?" He nudged Matthew.

Catching onto Gilbert's plan he replied, "Yeah, beautiful weather…," he paused. "Bob."

"Bob? Really," Gilbert whispered.

"I don't know. I can't think fast."

"Whatever. Just keep up the tone."

"I'll try."

"So, Harry, pal, what brings you to town," Gilbert continued, back to an obnoxious volume.

"Oh, you know, just business."

"You still selling calendars?"

'Calendars?' Matthew mouthed.

'Just go with it,' Gilbert mouthed back.

Matthew rolled his eyes. "Yep. The usual. Business is best in December so sales aren't so good right now."

"Sorry to hear that, Ted."

"Ted? I thought my name was Harold," Matthew Whispered.

"I know. Your nickname is Ted," Gilbert explained quietly.

"You think we're taking this too far? I don't even know what you're doing."

"Just wait."

"Whatever." Matthew leant back in his chair. "So how's your family been? Is Barb still doing okay?"

"No. I'm afraid she passes away not too long ago."

"Oh. My condolences."

Gilbert looked around, noticing he had everyone's attention. Well, everyone except the man at the table next to them, who had earbuds in and his face buried in an old book. Exactly how Gilbert needed it. He looked over Matthew's shoulders at the man who was oblivious to everything and everyone around him. Gilbert's eyes widened in faux surprise. "Is that who I think it is?"

Matthew turned around. "Why, it is!"

By now, everyone in the bakery was following the couple's conversation like a tennis game, and, like clockwork, they turned to look at the other man. Feeling everyone's eyes on him, he started to shift uncomfortably in his seat. When he looked up, his eyes widened, then squinted. Without saying a word, he stood, grabbed his book, and walked out of the bakery while everyone watched him.

Gilbert laughed and grabbed Matthew's hand. In his normal voice he said, "I can't believe it worked."

"You wanted him to leave?"

"Well, duh. We can't exactly interrogate him surrounded by this many people. It'd look suspicious."

"You are an idiot."

"But you love me."

Matthew rolled his eyes and followed Gilbert out of the building, ignoring the confused glances of other customers. When he walked out the door, he heard an employ say, "They didn't even buy anything," and Matthew couldn't help but burst out laughing. He stopped immediately when Gilbert elbowed him in the side.

"There he is."

Matthew's eyes followed Gilbert's pointing finger until he saw their target sitting in the bench where they previously saw him, reading the same book. This time, the two casually approached the bench and sat down next to him. There was barely enough room for the three to sit comfortably, but they still fit.

The man looked up from his book, annoyed. "Ugh. You two. Can I help you?"

"We were wondering if you knew this man." Gilbert pulled his phone out of his pocket and showed him a picture of the man in question.

He squinted, trying to make out the picture while the sun glared on the screen. "Hmm. What if I do know him?"

"It would be a great help if you could tell me where he is."

"Why do you want to know?"

"Because," Gilbert started, thinking of an excuse. "He is my long-lost brother. My mother, on her deathbed told me 'Gil, my boy, before I go, there's something I need to tell you. You have a brother. His name is—' and then she died. I never got to know his name. So I did some digging through her stuff, and found some old photographs of a little boy who looks a lot like the man I have a picture of."

"I'm sorry about your mother. What was her name?"

"What?" Gilbert was caught off guard.

"What was your mother's name?"

"Uh… Her name was… Helen. Helena."

"Lucky guess. I can tell you where he is, but it'll cost ya."

Gilbert looked at Matthew, a puzzled look on his face, then back to the other guy. "Fine. What do you want?"

The man looked at Gilbert for a moment, then to Matthew, his eyes boring into Matthew, making him sweat. "I want… him."

* * *

 **A/N:** Okay so I know this chapter may be a bit confusing, and I'm sorry, but it'll definitely make sense later, just wait. And as for that last line...

Anyways, I'm sorry but I might not be able to keep the updating schedule I currently have because I've been really busy with homework and stuff, so I might not be able to post every Friday, but I'll try. And as always, hope you enjoyed it, and thanks for the nice reviews!


	3. Chapter 3

"I want… him."

Matthew nearly choked. "What!"

"What do you mean you want _him_ ," Gilbert shouted, a few pedestrians giving him weird looks as they passed.

"I mean what I said."

"I know that," Matthew started, still recovering from shock. "But what do you _mean_?"

"Do you want to know where he is or not?"

"Yes," Gilbert affirmed, annoyed. "But what do you _mean_?"

"I mean," the man started. "That he has information that I need."

Matthew glared at him. "What could I possibly know that you wouldn't?"

"We don't even know your name," Gilbert stated.

He glanced around then whispered, "It's Lukas."

"Okay, Lukas, what information do you need?"

"We can't talk about it here."

"Well where then?" Matthew was so close to just punching Gilbert in the face for getting him into this whole mess, and Lukas in the stomach for being so weird.

"Come with me." Lukas stood up, expecting Matthew to follow. Gilbert stood as well, but Lukas stopped him. "You stay."

Matthew looked back at Gilbert as they walked away, shrugging and following Lukas to God knows where.

* * *

"So what do you want to know?" Matthew was at his last string of patience with this Lukas guy. He had dragged them all over town, trying to find a place that wasn't so crowded, but on a Saturday, it wasn't likely. However, Lukas finally told him to sit down on a bench in the park, right outside the garden.

"Nothing. I just need to tell you something about Gilbert."

"Wait. How do you know his name? He didn't tell you."

"I remember him. How could anyone forget someone as annoying as him?"

"Good point. Anyway, what's with this whole secretive sneaking around thing? What do you want to tell me about Gilbert?"

Lukas glanced around again before answering quietly, "Don't trust him."

"What? What do you mean? Don't trust who?"

"Don't trust Gilbert."

"Why," Matthew questions, but in a flash, Lukas had disappeared. It was like he hadn't even been there at all. Matthew shrugged and decided he should probably get back to Gilbert, if he could even find his way back to the other bench.

He spent the whole walk trying to understand what Lukas had said. _Don't trust Gilbert._ Why wouldn't he trust Gilbert? He had known him for long enough. Then again, Matthew had no idea what Gilbert was going through those couple months he was missing. He could be a completely different person. Matthew didn't notice any changes in his behavior, but maybe Gilbert was just acting this whole time. Maybe none of this was really what was happening. What if Gilbert was on the side of the French and British guys and now they were coming after Matthew next? What if everyone—Gilbert, Lukas, the three men in the picture—Were all plotting against him, in one giant scheme to have him dead?

 _Damn it Matthew, snap out of it_ he told himself. He was pretty sure that that was _not_ what was happening, but the thoughts still lingered in the back of his mind when he finally found the bench and Gilbert again.

He approached his boyfriend, preparing to apologize for losing Lukas, but when he looked again, The man was sitting next to Gilbert, talking about something.

"What was that about," he said to Lukas, who looked up, finally noticing him standing there.

"What do you mean?"

Matthew ignored him,sitting next to Gilbert and shaking his head, waiting for Lukas to go away.

"Anyway," Gilbert started. "You got what you wanted. Now, where's this guy." He pointed to his phone again.

Lukas closed his eyes and leant back in the bench. "His name's Matthias. You can find him at this address." He took out a sticky note and pen and wrote something down. He handed it to Gilbert and looked at Matthew, not saying anything, but Matthew got the hint.

Gilbert noticed and also looked at Matthew, but when he looked back to Lukas, he had disappeared again.

"How does he do that," Matthew asked, obviously not expecting Gilbert to know.

"I don't know, but I do know that we need to find this Matthias guy."

"Let me see that." Matthew grabbed the small pink piece of paper from Gilbert and looked at it. The only thing on it was supposedly Matthias's address. However Matthew notices a second piece of paper stuck to the back of it. When Gilbert wasn't looking, he flipped the top note up to read the bottom one.

 _Remember what I said_

Shocked, Matthew quickly stuffed the second note into his pocket. "So should we go find this Matthias guy?"

"Yeah," Gilbert replied, standing up and grabbing Matthew by the hand. "Now where did we park again?"

After Matthew and Gilbert found the parking lot in which Matthew's car was, they started arguing over who should drive.

"It's my car," Matthew started. "You don't even know how addresses work, anyway."

Gilbert gasped taken aback. "Yes I do. And you drove on the way here. It's my turn."

"What are you? Five? I'm driving."

"No." Gilbert forced Matthew out of the way and threw himself into the driver's side of the car.

Matthew put his face in hands as he got in the passenger seat and slammed the door. "You are five. You're a child and you shouldn't be driving."

"Excuse you, I am 22 years old and my driving skills are awesome."

"You sure are immature for a 22 year old. I'm 19 and I am far more sophisticated than you."

"Wait," Gilbert started, looking at Matthew as they stood still at a stoplight. "You're only 19? Why didn't you tell me this?"

"Yes I'm 19, and I am sure that I have told you this at least seven times."

"You're a baby."

"I'm not a baby."

"Aw, you're so cute." Gilbert went to pinch the Canadians cheek but his hand was furiously swatted away.

"Light's green," Matthew muttered.

"Oh." Gilbert continued driving, and Matthew refused to speak to him.

"Did I make you mad?"

Matthew ignored him.

"I'm sorry."

Again, Matthew kept his eyes on the white line on the road outside the passenger window, ignoring Gilbert.

"You're not a baby. I was joking," Gilbert apologized, this time more serious. "Besides, you're the one who called me a five year old."

"But you know it's true." Matthew looked at Gilbert, smiling.

He shrugged and laughed. "Yeah it is."

* * *

"Well," Gilbert sighed. "Here we are."

It took them nearly three hours, but they finally found the place. It was a run-down apartment building that they wouldn't have ever guessed anyone lived in.

"So. Do we knock," Matthew suggested.

"Yeah. That seems like the best thing to do." Gilbert knocked twice, then, noticing the doorbell, rang that twice too.

The door unexpectedly swung open and the man they were looking for was standing there, in a white tank top and boxer shorts—a strange ensemble considering it was almost 5 PM.

"Can I help you two," he asked, sounding quiet exhausted, but at the same time, joyful.

"Yes. Um," Matthew started, figuring out the best way to state it. "We need to ask you a few questions, if that's alright with you."

"It won't take long," Gilbert added.

"Okay, come on in."

' _This guy is way too trusting,'_ Matthew thought to himself. _'We could be murderers for all he knows.'_ But he shook the thought off as he stepped through the threshold.

"Have a seat." Matthias motioned to two ratty arm chairs, and the couple sat down, trying not to look too uncomfortable. The other man sat down on a sofa across from them, grabbing a bottle of beer from the coffee table. "You want one," He asked to both of them.

Matthew shook his head. "No, thanks."

"I'll have one," Gilbert replied.

"Okay. Don't go anywhere. I'll be right back."

After Matthias disappeared into the kitchen, Matthew glared at Gilbert, who noticed and jumped. "What."

"You know what happens when you drink."

"What? I get drunk."

"Not only that. You get aggressive. The next thing we need is you throwing chairs."

"I'm not going to throw any chairs."

"Yeah whatever," Matthew mumbled as Matthew reentered the living room and handed an open bottle of beer to Gilbert.

"Thanks." He took a sip and smiled at Matthew, who rolled his eyes.

"So before you go asking me a bunch of questions, I'm going to need to know your names."

"Oh." Gilbert looked at Matthew. "I'm Gilbert, and he's Matthew."

"I'm Matthias."

"We know," Matthew responded, not intending for it to come out as creepy as it did.

"Okay," Matthias started, glancing warily at Matthew. "What do you want to know?"

"Uh one second." Gilbert pulled his phone out of his pocket and opened the picture. "Do you know these two guys?"

Matthias squinted and looked at the small screen. "Oh yeah. I know them."

"Well who are they," Gilbert asked, eager to finally find out.

"You seem to be out of beer," Matthias acknowledged. "Can I get you another one?"

Gilbert looked at the bottle in his hand, noticing it was empty. "Yes, please."

"Can I get you anything, Matthew?"

"Water would be nice." He smiled kindly, and Matthias was off to the kitchen again.

"How many beers are you going to have," Matthew whispered.

"This will be my last one. Why don't you lighten up a little?"

"Lighten up? I think you need to lighten down."

"Don't be so lame."

"I'm Lame? You're the one who—"

He was interrupted by Matthias entering the living room holding a beer in one hand and a glass of water in the other.

"Thank you," the two said in unison as Matthias handed them their drinks.

"They're names are Francis and Arthur," He answered as he sat back on the sofa. "I don't know much about them, but one day they pulled me off the streets and said they wanted to 'chat' with me."

Matthew chugged his entire glass of water. He hadn't had anything to eat or drink all day and he was starting to feel sick. "So do you know where they are," he questioned, however, he started to notice swirls on the wall, and his words were slurred.

"Matthew, are you okay," Gilbert asked, shaking his boyfriend's shoulder, but he started feeling tired as well, so he rested his head there instead. "Goodnight," he whispered before the two fell asleep.

"It worked," Matthias gasped, surprised "Oh my gosh it actually worked. Francis and Arthur will be so happy. They have to trust me now." He moved to the closet and searched through the junk for the rope he had put in there not long ago. When he found it he went back to the two sleeping on the chairs.

"I'm sorry," he whispered as he moved towards them.

* * *

 **A/N:** Sorry this chapter is a couple days late. Like I said, I've been busy with other things and I haven't had time to write much. Since school is starting for me in two weeks, I may not be able to update as much in September, so if a chapter isn't published every Friday, it will definitely be publish by the next Tuesday. Anyway, I always appreciate reviews, whether they're critical or not, so thanks for those, and as always, hope you enjoyed this chapter!


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